


Dance with me

by Peanut_Butter_and_Jamilton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Needs Sleep, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Swearing, eventually, if i feel nice, kinda it doesn’t seem like it at first, trust me I can make them deny feelings forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_Butter_and_Jamilton/pseuds/Peanut_Butter_and_Jamilton
Summary: Thomas Jefferson needed help. James Madison kept trying to set him up on dates despite his obvious disinterest, insisting he was lonely, and his homophobic family simply refused to believe him when he came out.Which is why he asked for Alexander Hamilton’s help, who could—and would—prove anyone wrong.Of course, who was Alexander to refuse, especially when he got to set some conditions in return?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 39
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright buckle up everyone, I haven’t slept in at least 28 hours at this point, but I’m terribly impatient. Don’t expect too regular an update schedule.
> 
> Apparently comments motivated me cause I got a bunch of nice comments today and stayed up to write and extra 2K and finish the chapter. It’s a little shorter than I would like, and sorry the chapter ending is a little weird. Tired brain.
> 
> Special thanks to one of my best friends, Jenn, who caught a very hilarious mistake. Or it was hilarious to me... I need more coffee, or sleep—whichever comes first.
> 
> I’m rambling, enjoy!

Alexander was on his third day awake, his fifth coffee of the morning, and only a thousand words into his latest project. He was damn exhausted, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. It was better to write and write and write until he crashed than to risk getting behind. He didn’t even glance up when he heard footsteps stop behind him, and someone clearing their throat. 

In fact, he didn’t notice until that person pulled out a chair and sat next to him. He finally looked over. His expression was curious, until he noticed Thomas Jefferson—of all people—staring at him. He glared once he’d recovered from his surprise, and leaned away. “The fuck do you want?” He hissed, trying to look busy typing a few extra words onto the page. They weren’t exactly friends, there was a hundred other people he could have bothered at this very moment.

Jefferson sighed and set a coffee on the table between them, like a peace offering. “Look, I need your… help,” he looked disgusted to even say it, but Alex had to admit it caught his attention, and he looked over with a raised eyebrow. “The coffee is for you, figured you would need it.”

“Is it poisoned?” Alex asked, gaze flicking between the cup and Jefferson’s face. How the tables had turned, Thomas Jefferson coming crawling to him for help, especially after last year when he’d needed to ask him politely to put forward his vote in their club. 

Jefferson scowled, “if it was poisoned I would have made someone else deliver it so you would actually drink it,” his accent became more pronounced in his annoyance, something he’d noticed during their debates and arguments in class. When he was truly irritated it would become more noticeable, Alexander liked it. It told him when he was getting under the asshole’s skin. He covered his smirk by taking a sip of the coffee. It was black with four shots of espresso, exactly how he liked it.

“You were asking for my help?” He reminded, probably a little smugger than he could have been. He didn’t care, Jefferson was the most smug, pompous asshole Alexander Hamilton had ever met. He would enjoy this while he could, and anyone who disapproved clearly had never met the guy.

Jefferson sighed, “listen, Hamilton. Don’t interrupt me, alright? ‘Cause if you say no before I finish you’ll be missing out.” Deciding to play nice for once, he nodded and made a zipping motion over his lips. Smirking at the irritated sigh that earned. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a little while. James is worried I’m lonely and keeps trying to set me up, not to mention my parents didn’t believe me when I came out. They’re homophobic and rich, some of your most hated traits. In return, you can fuck with James’ head all you want, and you get to rub it in my parent’s faces at a big party in front of more rich, homophobic people.” 

Well, that certainly wasn’t what he expected. He watched Jefferson for a moment to make sure he was finished before speaking up. “Sounds fun but you gotta give me a little more than that if I’ve gotta kiss you and hold your hand. How long is this gonna go on, too? I’m not gonna marry you or some shit, we gotta break up eventually.”

Jefferson sighed, a common occurrence around Alexander. “We’d need to stay together for six months, after that we can have a very big, very public breakup. Until then, what do you want?”

Alex scanned his face for a second, before sucking in a sharp breath. He didn’t want to have to admit this, admitting weakness wasn’t something he did, let alone to his enemy. “I can’t afford to stay on campus over the holidays or over the summer break. I assume you have a place? I won’t bug you, I just need a place to stay, and it would add to our dating story.”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, “We break up before summer, six months is all we need.”

“So? We already had plans and didn’t wanna cancel, we stayed friends or whatever. Not like we’re gonna be fucking, I just need a couch to crash on so I’m not stuck.” Alex sighed, growing slightly irritated, and took a big gulp of coffee. Jefferson was the one who asked him for fucking help, not the other way around. He’d lived on the streets before, but that was back in Nevis. He didn’t think he would survive the winter.

“Fine, now will you do it?”

“One more thing,” he knew he was pushing it, but goddamnit he would milk this for all it’s worth, besides, he needed this next thing, especially if they were gonna pretend to date for six goddamn months. He knew he did, it was important. “I need one chance to make you back down from a debate, just one chance. You can pretend you conceded because you’re my boyfriend or whatever, but I just need one opportunity.”

Jefferson stared at him for a long time, eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said after a long time of staring. “Now?”

“Yes,” they shook hands, and Alexander ignored the way their palms slotted together easily, smoothly, even. 

“Good, come to my dorm tonight, James is out but he’ll be dropping by for a good ten minutes. He’ll see us, which’ll set up our story a bit. In the morning you can wear one of my sweaters around campus and to your classes so everyone sees it. The next day we can hold hands and I’ll walk you to class, then we can announce we’re dating on the third day.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, watching his reaction. Alexander had to admit, it was a decent enough plan. Besides, he had a bit of a thing for oversized sweaters, which made him slightly more agreeable.

“Works for me,” he hummed, “what are we gonna do at your place? Do homework in silence until James shows up so we can rush to cuddle or some shit?” Alex asked, gesturing to his laptop for good measure, hinting at the assignment he was currently working on. He should have felt a flash of disgust at the thought of cuddling his literal enemy, and maybe it was the fuzziness in his head from lack of sleep, but he honestly couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much. It wasn’t like they planned on actually doing anything, although he would definitely love to see Madison’s face if he had walked in on them fucking. He giggled at the thought, which earned him an odd look.

“I don’t care what we do. Why are you laughing, how long have you been awake?” He sounded baffled, a little wary. Honestly, a good combination of emotions. Alexander was unpredictable when he’d been awake longer than two days.

“Well, Sweetheart,” he was sure to stress the pet name, surprised when Jefferson actually masked his disgust, although his eyes narrowing gave it away. “I couldn’t help but think about Madison’s face if he walked in on us fucking. Also, it’s only been three days, so not all that bad, really. I haven’t passed out which is a good sign.”

Jefferson stared at him for a long moment, before shaking his head and standing.

“Oh come on, babe! You have to get used to my weird sleep schedule now!” No one else was really in the library, so he wasn’t exactly worried about shouting. Only the librarian, and she was used to his antics by now. It was four, but it was also Monday, and who wanted to study on Monday at four in the afternoon?

“It’s not weird, Darlin’, it’s downright unhealthy.” He called back over his shoulder, and Alexander gave a surprised grin at the startling playfulness of it. Thomas stressed the nickname, and he found it amusing how much more his Southern drawl seemed to stand out on it. He ignored the odd curl in his stomach, and wondered if the coffee was poisoned after all.

  
Alexander knocked on the familiar dorm door. He’d walked over, but to be honest, he wasn’t exactly opposed to staying at Jefferson’s, it was closer to the building with his first morning class, which just made things easier for him. He shuffled his laptop bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. The door opened, revealing his brand new fake boyfriend.

Jefferson stepped aside so he could come inside. He only glanced around briefly, it was a college dorm, it was just two beds and two desks, as well as a few posters and personal items. He took a guess at Jefferson’s bed by the Monticello poster above it and flopped down. He could hear him give an annoyed sigh, but then again, Alex didn’t really care, so he ignored it, focusing on the blank white ceiling instead. He’d brought his laptop, so he could do homework, but he had a feeling that he would soon grow bored of it. If he was gonna waste his night with Thomas fucking Jefferson, he would much rather be doing something interesting.

With a huff, Jefferson settled beside him, barely close enough to reach if Alex stuck his arm out. “James isn’t planning on texting me when he shows up to grab his things, so for the next few hours we’re gonna have to be ready.” 

Alexander fished his laptop out of his bag, then stared pointedly at Jefferson. “We’re watching a movie, I brought my laptop. We can cuddle until Madison shows up, because I’m freezing like hell and it’s more believable than being caught sitting all the way across the bed from each other. That would do wonders for the rumours of us dating.” Jefferson pursed his lips but nodded. There was something off about his expression that Alexander didn’t recognize, but it was gone before he had the time to think. “Good, then lean against the wall.”

He looked about ready to argue, but stared for a long moment before he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, which was against the wall. Alex followed him, worming between his absently-spread legs despite the startled look, and flopped his back against a firm, warm chest. “What-” Alexander ignored him, and settled his laptop over his legs. 

He started up Netflix, thankful typing in his password never showed any of the letters, just the asterisks. He would much rather not have Jefferson knowing his laptop password, or his Netflix password either, for that matter.

“You could have warned me where you were about to lay,” it was weird to hear Jefferson’s voice so close behind him, right by his ear, to feel the words spoken through the rumble in his chest. Honestly, though, he was more interested in keeping warm. For some reason, his room was irritatingly cold. Alex hated the cold. Jefferson was very warm, it seeped through easily into Alex’s back. He was tempted to relax into it, but he’d just been given a golden opportunity.

“Why?” He asked with a smug grin, and wiggled back against him. “Been awhile?”

“Hamilton,” hands grasped at his waist and dug in almost painfully to keep him in place. He rolled his eyes, but settled down.

“killjoy,” he muttered, but he didn’t really wanna be kicked off, he rather liked not freezing to death. Besides, he supposed they would have to get used to being close to each other, considering their friends all expected them to act like they were dating—and Alexander was a known cuddler. “We’re watching Sharktopus vs. Pteracuda,” he announced, searching it up.

“What the fuck is Sharktopus vs. Pteracuda?” He sounded disgusted, and Alexander gasped, bringing his hand to his heart in mock offense.

“I will have you know it is a cinematic masterpiece. Amazing CGI, great actors, and an awesome plot. It’s just perfect,” Jefferson snorted in disbelief, but Alexander just ignored him and started up the movie.

“Amazing CGI?” Jefferson asked within the first few minutes of the movie, voice dripping with sarcasm. Alexander would give him that, it was a terrible movie, but it was so bad it was good.

Their breaths fell in sync eventually, Alex noticed, and while the grip had loosened, Thomas was still holding his waist. Probably because he expected Alex to squirm again. Not surprising considering it was hard for him to sit still, but he was willing to play nice for a little while.

It didn’t take long for Madison to show up, they were only seventeen minutes in. 

First, the doorknob jiggled a little bit, then he could hear it open. He purposely ignored it, leaning further into Thomas. 

The hands clinging to his waist slid, wrapping around him. They pulled him closer, if that was even possible, and the gentle weight was comforting. A sharp chin rested on his shoulder. He felt his own breathing hitch at the first puff of hot air that rolled over his neck and ear. His heart sped up, which he tried to ignore. He was nervous thinking about what Madison was going to say. Would he question them? Kick up a fuss? Say nothing?

He forced his breath to even out and focused on the movie. He found he couldn’t, though, he couldn’t hear the dialogue over his own heart pounding in his ears, couldn’t focus his vision when it kept flicking down to the arms curled around his waist. He could feel Madison staring at them, gaze sharp, and he had to force himself not to look up just to clear that uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

After a few solid seconds of staring, he seemed to collect himself, and flitted about the room, grabbing things. He was out in less than five minutes, leaving behind the sound of screaming coming from his laptop. Was it bad he was rooting more for the monsters than the people they were killing?

“He’s gone,” Thomas whispered, but it was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure. Alexander didn’t want him to let go, he was so warm, and comfortable, and his eyes were beginning to droop.

“He might come back,” he offered after a moment. His eyes burned, and he was reminded quite suddenly that he’d been awake for three long days filled with classes and non-stop writing and work. He was tired, his head was growing fuzzy.

They were forty minutes in, his head was so clouded he couldn’t bring himself to stay awake for much longer. He leaned his head back and let his eyes close. There was no point in staying awake, he wasn’t doing work, just watching a movie. He’d been planning to stay over that night anyway. Maybe they wouldn’t have been cuddling. He much rathered falling asleep comfortably like this, rather than too far to even touch.

Vaguely, he remembered something he’d read back in psychology, sleeping next to someone increased trust and made for a better sleep overall as it reduced stress. His last thought before drifting off was that perhaps he would finally be able to sleep more than a few hours at a single time.

  
Alexander woke to shuffling, his laptop being tugged off his lap, and him being moved lower. “Wha-?” He groaned, blinking open his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Alexander. I’ll wake you up for your classes in the morning if you sleep too long.” He nodded groggily, and closed his eyes.

  
Alex didn’t want to move. He was warm, from the moment he’d moved away from Nevis and to the United States he’d been cold. He could be buried under multiple blankets and still feel like he was absolutely freezing—but he was warm. It was November, which also made it even weirder. He snuggled closer to the warmth, and tried to soothe his mind back to sleep.

It wasn’t until he was on the edge of sleep that he remembered why he was so warm, or more accurately, who was making him so warm. He was curled into the chest of Thomas Jefferson, laying on top of him. He groaned and forced his eyes open, glancing at the crappy dorm-provided alarm clocks. It was six in the morning, his first class was at eight-thirty, so he definitely had time to sleep a little longer. It was odd that he had even slept so long, usually, he managed four or five hours at most, even after having been awake for days.

He glanced up, taking in the peaceful blankness in Thomas’ expression, telling Alex he was still asleep. He smiled for a second, just taking in his features when they weren’t marred by arrogance or a scowl. He didn’t want to be caught staring, so he looked away, and tried to get off as slowly as possible.

The arms around his waist tightened, and he fought a smirk. Jefferson was a cuddler, god, wasn’t that an interesting piece of information. Either way, he wanted to at least be up early to sort of fix up his appearance if he was gonna be wearing the same clothes as the day before—maybe he could even take a shower. He went back to untangling himself as slowly as he could so he didn’t wake Thomas up, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow with focus.

Quite suddenly, hands released him, and he glanced up to see Jefferson smirking drowsily. He felt a little bad for waking him up, but scowled. “I didn’t want to deal with your smug mouth in the morning,” he rebuffed, even though he hadn’t even said anything. 

“Well, Darlin’, I don’t think anyone expects you to complain about my mouth after today,” Alexander flushed, trying not to notice how much thicker the Virginian drawl was in the morning when he was still gripped with sleep, or the way his hair was slightly messy and soft-looking. 

He swallowed thickly, around the lump in his throat, and stood, turning away so he had some kind of deniability about his blush. He grabbed his laptop, stuffing it into his bag, which had all his class supplies. “Can I take a shower?” He asked, shoving away his embarrassment.

“Why? Do you want me to join you?” He’d sat up, and was watching Alex. He could feel the stare heavy on his back, and shook his head.

“Nevermind,” he felt warmth rise to his cheeks. Usually, he was the flirtatious one, he wasn’t used to someone actively pursuing him, especially when that person was Thomas freaking Jefferson. “I’ll just suffer. You said you were gonna let me borrow a sweater to wear around campus? What’s the story behind that, I don’t jump into bed on the very first date.” He turned back around when he felt the heat fade from his cheeks again, pretending to have finished rummaging around in his over-the-shoulder laptop bag.

Thomas’ eyes were dark, and piercing, he noticed. “Neither do I, Alexander,” he started at the use of his first name, but Jefferson just continued like he hadn’t even noticed. “We’ve been dating for a few weeks now, but we’re getting ready to go public, so we’re not really trying to hide it anymore.”

Alex nodded, “I can deal with that.” It sounded plausible enough. He certainly wouldn’t want to admit it immediately if he’d just started dating his supposed enemy. Thomas stood, and made his way to the small wardrobe, which was clearly split into two sides. He opened the left side, and gestured at the hanging sweaters.

“Pick one you would recognize. Get it dirty and your body will be found in a ditch,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He sounded so serious, and Alex fought a burst of laughter. Most of the sweaters were purple, so he grabbed the one he knew Thomas wore the most. Sure, purple wasn’t his colour, but the ‘Monticello’ in neat white letters on the back meant the sweater was absolutely unmistakable. He held it up for permission before daring to slip it on.

Dark eyes narrowed, but eventually, he nodded.

Alex slipped the sweater over his head, fighting the urge to breathe in deeply so he could etch the scent of cinnamon, sweetness, and cologne into his memory. It was a lot bigger on him, falling almost to mid-thigh, the sleeves dropping passed his hands. He glanced up, mouth open to make a joke about no one having any doubts, when he paused.

Thomas was… staring at him, his expression unreadable as he scanned Alex with a sharp look. 

Once he realized he was caught, his cheeks brightened. 

Alexander Hamilton was struck dumb, absolutely speechless. He’d just made Thomas freaking Jefferson blush.

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just grabbed his bag again and tossed it over his shoulder. “What time’s your first class?” He asked curiously. He knew they didn’t share a class, their only class together for the day was his final class at three in the afternoon—Washington’s class. Boy, that debate was going to be seriously hilarious. He couldn’t wait.

“Nine, yours is eight-thirty?” He asked, uncrossing his arms from over his chest.

“Yeah,” he nodded, not even bothering to ask how Jefferson knew. “I’ve got to head out, your dorms actually closer to my morning class, so don’t be surprised if I show up late Monday nights.” He smiled to show he was joking, and he startled when Thomas smiled back. It was a nice smile, not sarcastic, or smug. It was genuine.

Alexander’s smile brightened. 

“I could walk you to class, if you want,” Thomas offered, “I have to head to the food court anyways to grab my morning coffee.”

He smiled, “that would be nice.”

  
November was cold, it sunk deep into his bones and gripped him tight until the summer began. Even then it wasn’t hot, it was warm, sometimes chilly, but never hot like some days had been in Nevis. He shivered as they stepped out of the dorm building and into the chilled morning air. He glared at his surroundings as if it would heat up at his gaze.

The sweater helped, and he sunk into it slightly, burying his hands in the large pocket so he could actually keep them warm. Thomas was tall, which naturally meant his steps were a lot longer, but he kept the pace slow so that Alexander didn’t have to rush to keep up with him. He would have hated that, he despised any sort of hurrying in the morning.

It wasn’t a far walk, and the food court (as they called it, though it was really a connection of shops, which sold things from school merchandise to food and drink) was quite close, so he didn’t feel bad about Thomas wasting time to walk him to class.

He was surprised, they hadn’t argued the whole night before, nor this morning. When he avoided the topic of politics they actually got along decently. He glanced around at the very few students milling about, the morning classes were never very occupied, it was quite well known. People just didn’t like taking morning classes. Alexander, however, barely slept, so he wasn’t opposed to being up even earlier than his first eight-thirty class, but there were very few, and he understood the importance of classes a little later in the morning.

Normally he would have gladly gone for coffee with Thomas, but he didn’t think he’d have time to make it all the way there and back to meet his usual time of forty minutes early. He liked to have time to choose his seat and get settled before everyone else, especially since his favourite spot to sit was usually the front row.

They arrived far too soon for his tastes.

“What are you doing after your first class?” Alex found himself asking, they’d moved just to the side of the building doors so they weren’t in anyone’s way. So far they hadn’t gotten many stares, everyone was too bleary-eyed to even notice them.

“I’m going back to my dorm to work on an essay, why?” He sounded a little suspicious, which honestly Alexander didn’t blame him for. He was used to people being suspicious of his intentions, he had a habit of making trouble wherever he went.

“I’ll bring you lunch,” he offered, “make sure I take the most public route to your dorm, wearing your sweater, with food. I’ve gotta go back to my room to grab some stuff, and Lafayette somehow managed to rope Burr into forcing me to eat something if I come by during the day, so I’ll bring you a sandwich while I’m at it.” He pursed his lips a little at the thought. It was quite annoying, but Lafayette was stubborn and Burr was grudgingly concerned about him, and they were tentative friends.

Thomas scanned his face for a moment, his eyes dark, before he said, “fine, but no tomatoes,” and Alex couldn’t stop the snort of laughter at that.

“God, I’m too fucking broke to afford anything except peanut butter and jelly, sorry buttercup, but you’ll have to suck it up.” The rhyme came naturally, and he found himself smirking when Thomas flushed slightly. “Alright, I’ve got class. I’ll see you later.” He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and headed inside. He knew his class schedule by heart, so it wasn’t hard to find it even with his mind unfocused.

He settled into a seat in the front row, and got himself set up. John Adams taught this class, which meant it was pretty boring, but he liked his credit so he got out his notebook and set it up for his odd style of note-taking. He would fill up pages upon pages so he tended to abbreviate his words to the point it was barely legible, and forced his writing so small and cramped it hurt his wrist. He just couldn’t keep anything short, forcing his own opinions in along with the words of the professor. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking his mind, from letting his thoughts flow out onto the page like a waterfall of messily-scrawled words. 

He ignored the baffled stares he earned when people finally flooded into class, apparently awake enough now to notice his abrupt change in attire.

He brushed it off easily, well used to the stares and attention he earned. He was probably the most well-known student on campus, for his loud debates, willingness to argue constantly, and the fact that he was in classes ahead of his year. Most notoriously, Washington’s, which was the most difficult class in the whole college. He was both hated and admired for it, unfortunately.

The one thing he looked forward to for this class, however, was a baffled John Laurens sliding into the seat next to him.

“What are you wearing?” He whispered in a hushed whisper, even though the class hadn’t even started yet and wouldn’t for another few minutes. 

Alexander raised an eyebrow, and just said smugly, “clothes, oh look! You’re wearing some too.”

John glared, but the corners of his mouth still quirked amusedly. “You’re deflecting. You’re wearing the same clothes you were yesterday, with Jefferson's sweater like a little bow on top. Except it’s you basically screaming you had sex with him instead of a gift.”

Alex snorted, trying to pretend his cheeks weren’t turning red—though not for the reason John thought. He was remembering the warmth of Thomas, how comfortable he felt leaning against him, or in the morning when he’d given such a genuine smile. Especially when his cheeks had flushed, turning his dark skin even darker.

Thankfully, he was cut off from having to respond when the professor walked into the room, holding a cup of what Alexander guesses was probably tea. John Adams didn’t seem cool enough for coffee.

He ignored John’s stare, and started taking notes.

  
Class was boring, people were dicks, he just wanted to get through the rest of his day. He was curious to hear what his friends thought about the whole situation. John was clearly baffled, obvious with the random incredulous looks he got, Lafayette would probably be overjoyed. He was always bugging Alex that he and Thomas would make good friends. Hercules would probably offer to threaten him, or something similar, he imagined Aaron would be surprised but not really annoying about it. The Schuyler sisters were harder to predict, however. They could have any number of reactions.

Midway through the lecture, John pulled out his phone and started texting. Knowing Lafayette, the news would probably be all across campus before noon. He hunched in on himself slightly, trying to disappear into the oversized hoodie, which still smelled strongly of cinnamon, a sweet note he didn’t recognize, and cologne. He was loud-mouthed, he didn’t mind eyes on him, thrived on it, in fact. He wanted people to know his name, wanted to make a difference—but for some reason this felt different. It was more intimate, made him feel shy. They were going to be the most popular couple on campus, and the thought of having to deal with that knowing it was all fake… he felt a swirling deep in his stomach, leaving him shifting and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to lie to his friends, they would be upset if they found out.

Adams dismissed class fifteen minutes early, and Alexander was surprised to realize he’d filled up only half a page of notes, with pretty much none of his own opinion sprinkled in. He pursed his lips and gathered all his things together. It was unusual, but then again he was quite distracted.

Hell, he was gonna be like this for six months? Why had he agreed to this? Sure, he gained quite a deal—but six months was a long time to date someone, let alone pretend to date them. He wondered if he could even keep it up that long. There was no way they just wouldn’t argue for a full six months, there was no possible chance they could manage it. He wanted to fuck with some homophobes, and he knew he needed a place to live.

Thankfully, John had been his best friend long enough to understand when he was lost in thought, and gave him the space to think while they walked. Neither had class for a while, but they usually went to go get coffee when they had morning classes together. Hercules wouldn’t be up until a little later, and Lafayette was across campus in his own class. As well, Thomas wouldn’t get out for another thirty minutes, so until then he had nothing better to do than get coffee and head back to his dorm.

He did have to make sandwiches, but that took very little time. Chat with Burr for a minute or two, he was more curious to see how his final class of the day would go. He wondered if he and Thomas would argue, if anything would change to suit their story. If they just stopped arguing it would be… odd, but something much calmer—meeting true debate standards, not quite crossing into argument-territory—would make sense, and even be beneficial. Perhaps they would even let Washington teach for once. He laughed quietly at that, and John shot him a strange look.

He realized he was just smiling and laughing to himself randomly as they walked, and tried to smooth it into something a little more normal and slightly less insane.

Judging by the concerned and amused looks John shot him every so often, Alex couldn’t imagine he was doing a very good job.

“So is he good in bed?” John blurted once they were approaching the food court, raising an eyebrow.

Alexander fought a flush, “John, we’re not talking about my sex life at nine-thirty on a Tuesday morning. At least wait until Friday night. Did no one ever teach you manners?”

John laughed, “didn’t anyone teach you? You’re supposed to tell your best friend if you’re gonna get laid, not just say you have plans and let him assume you’re studying again and trying to seem slightly healthier.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “oh yes, just message you out of the blue, ‘brb, fucking Jefferson. Don’t wait up!’”

“Hey, at least I would know you weren’t drinking coffee and energy drinks mixed again so you could study for a week straight.”

“That was one time—Would you let it go already!”

“Eliza took you to the hospital ‘cause you wouldn’t stop mumbling and shaking. She thought you were gonna have a seizure or something!”

“I was fine-!”

“You were at risk of a heart attack-“

“Well, never took you for a fag, Hamilton.” Alexander froze. The voice came from behind him, and he would recognize it anywhere. Smug, whiny, one of the people he had to hate the most on campus. Charles fucking Lee. He was not in the mood to deal with this, and the word rang in his ears. Oh hell no, no one used that word around Alexander Hamilton.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Another chapter for you, I would like to preface this first by saying something I probably should have said in the first chapter. I am not a college student, so if any information is off or wrong I apologize. My friend who has been through college has been looking over this, (hi Jenn!) but she’s currently busy. I’m also Canadian, which probably explains some of my spelling, and if I get confused or mention something you don’t have in America let me know.
> 
> Anyways, thanks to anyone who has shown support in any ways—even just reading! I’m trying to respond to everyone in the comments because I love talking to you guys. If you have any questions feel free to ask them as well and I’ll answer ASAP.
> 
> (I promise I’m not like a gremlin refreshing and waiting for comments, it’s just linked to my phone email so I always get a notification quickly)

Charles Lee was the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard; his voice was loud, grating, and tore at the ears of anyone in the vicinity. His opinions were horrid and outdated. He wasn’t well-liked—in fact, it was more accurate to say he was widely hated.

Especially when he had no trouble throwing words like _that_ around. It was absolutely despicable.

He turned, already glaring and mouth ready. The words tumbled out with a satisfying burn, making his whole body light up with something deep and _angry._ “First thing, that was a real nice declaration—but we’re running a _real_ nation. Would you like to join us? Nowadays, it’s not illegal and punishable by death for something you can’t control more than your own damn height. You should never use a word like that without knowing the history behind it, and I personally don’t seem to think you’re _educated_ enough for that. Maybe stick to some simple words or go back to daycare and learn to talk like a real human being. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fire filled him from head-to-toe, fueling him, coaxing him forward.

Lee smirked, and dread stirred in his chest. “Why do you care what I’m doing with _my_ mouth? You’re the one fucking Jefferson. I have to admit, Hamilton, it’s pretty smart. Fuck the most influential student on campus? Can’t _wait_ to see all your new plans pass through the SA!”

Alexander narrowed his eyes, and his hands tightened into fists. He could feel his bitten nails dig into his palm, but the sharp stab of pain brought no clarity, only anger. “I don’t know what you’re _implying,”_ he hissed. There was no way that arrogant prick thought-

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Did you think no one would notice you were getting his votes through sex? I gotta admit, Hamilton, I never took you for that kind of person.”

“Take that back!” John snapped before Alex had the chance, stepping forward. 

Lee didn’t move forward, but he didn’t back down either. “Take what back? All I’ve done is tell the truth. Hamilton finally decided to take after his mother and whore himself out. All he needs now is to follow her footsteps and die before-“

Alexander didn’t hear what Lee said next. His ears were ringing, the blood roaring in his ears far too loud for anything else. His vision flashed red, bright, and hot and _angry_ like a raging fire. He wasn’t aware that he’d even lunged until there were arms around him, holding him back.

He struggled, deathly silent in his rage the way he never was elsewhere, especially his anger. He fought and squirmed and kicked out despite being pulled away. “Alexander,” the voice in his ear was familiar. It reminded him where he was—what he was doing. He could get kicked out for fighting. Alexander practically wilted, he wasn’t about to risk his whole future for this, no matter how tempting it was. “Calm down.”

Thomas continued to drag him back, John trailing after them, shooting Lee glares over his shoulder. Thank god he hadn’t gone after him, there was no way Thomas could hold both of them back. He sucked in a sharp breath and unwound his fingers from where they had tightened into the arms around his waist. It was reminiscent of the previous night the way both arms curled tight around his waist, although the implications were far different. He let out the breath he’d taken, shuddering.

He was led away, left shaking from adrenaline rather than anger. He was still mad, of course, but he wasn’t about to do something stupid.

Thomas kept the arm around his waist, tight in case he tried to turn and change his mind, while John rested a hand on his shoulder.

He was led into the shop they had been heading for. Alexander sat down at one of the tables, and his hands latched onto the cheap plastic edge, as if holding it could prevent him from getting angrier.

Thomas slid into the seat across from him, watching for half a second before he turned to John and they shared a look.

“I’ll get coffee,” he said after a moment, shooting Alex a half-smile before he turned to head for the line.

“What happened?” Alex felt himself bristling slightly, he didn’t want to look at Thomas, he didn’t know what he was meant to say. Lee has insulted him, he’d gotten angry.

“Lee’s an asshole,” he said eventually, focusing his gaze on the table. “It’s common knowledge.” He messed with a dent, running his fingers over it to look like his mind was occupied. It was, but not in the way he wanted. All he could think about was the fact that the whole school would think they were fucking for votes—not that they were fucking in the first place, of course.

Then, Alexander realized something, and the thought refused to leave him. “How did you know where I was?” He glanced up finally, into dark eyes, which were watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Class was dismissed a little early, the first thing I heard when I got outside was that two idiots were shouting outside of the food court—I took a guess at who one of those idiots were.” His voice was dry, and he didn’t look amused in the slightest. Alex hoped he hadn’t hurt him in the struggle, he would never live that down. “How the hell did he piss you off that bad? I’ve never seen you try to hit anyone else, even me.” 

Alex frowned, “that’s because you don’t take cheap shots at my mother and accuse me of sleeping with someone for SA votes.” He thought back on their fights, when they began arguing in the middle of debates it was usually insults about terrible outfits, wavering intelligence and having stupid ideas—all of which Thomas knew far too much about. He shook his head to chase away the insult and buried his hands in the sweater pockets, curling in on himself. It smelled good and gave him something to focus on. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow, “he thinks you’re sleeping with me for votes?” It was a valid assumption, they were notorious enemies, the whole school knew they fought and argued constantly about anything and everything. Lafayette had cheerfully informed Alexander there were bets on which one would go missing first. 

“Yeah,” Alexander rolled his eyes, “if I was gonna sleep with you for political reasons it wouldn’t be for votes.” 

“Then what political reasons _would_ you sleep with me for?” He asked, furrowing his brows. 

Alexander stared at him blankly for a moment. “Marriage, tax benefits, and possible fraud if I was feeling slightly angrier with the Government than usual.” Thomas looked at him, incredulous, then they both burst into laughter. 

They were interrupted when John—glancing between the two of them with unabashed curiosity—set down a cup in front of them both, then sat down next to Alex with his own. Alexander didn’t hesitate to take a big gulp and froze. 

“No,” he turned to give John a horrified, betrayed look. It was decaf. John just quirked an eyebrow, _daring_ him to complain. He sighed, and took another sip, backing down. His friends refused to give him coffee after a certain incident last year that put him in the hospital, but to _trick_ him into thinking he was getting real coffee like that... 

Thomas, meanwhile, was quite happy with his coffee. “How did you know my order?” He asked after taking a wary sip. Alex blushed when John began to snicker. 

“Oh,” John laughed, “we _all_ know your order. I could recite it in my sleep.” He leaned over to pat Alexander on the back, and he vaguely wondered if there were any bets on him killing John. If not, he wondered how many people would get _against_ it and how much he would make from it. 

Thomas shot him a questioning look, but thankfully didn’t say anything, just continued to drink his coffee. It wasn’t his fault Thomas Jefferson had the most pompous order ever, or that they often ended up in line around the same time due to their schedules. 

He made do with his coffee order, drinking what he could, before he eventually finished and stood. “I’ve gotta be heading back to my dorm, I need to grab some stuff for my next class.” 

“Eat while you’re there,” John stood with him and clapped him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes and nodded, gathering up his bag from where it had ended up next to him. Thomas stood too, and gathered up his cup of coffee, which still looked about half full. 

He kept an eye out for Lee as he walked back to his dorm alone, he didn’t want to get into another fight when he didn’t have anyone to make sure he wouldn’t attack him. He was still angry, he could feel it bubbling beneath the surface, but he didn’t want to get into a fight and ruin his scholarships. If he lost them… 

He would be left with nothing. 

No one interrupted him, which he was thankful for as he stepped into the dorm, swiping his ID to enter. It was still pretty early so it was practically dead, people either in class or still asleep. He made his way up to his room, where he knew Burr would be waiting for is next class, as his first was earlier than Alexander’s. Most classes, in general, were later in the day, which he didn’t really mind too much. 

Burr was sitting at his desk, but he glanced up when Alex entered, eyes wandering to the undoubtedly familiar sweater. The whole school would recognize it, Thomas Jefferson was popular around campus, both as a member of the Student Advocates, and as a member of the Student Council. Alexander was known in quite the same way, he was Student President of the Student Advocates, and the Treasury Secretary of the Student Council. 

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, just turned back to his desk and continued typing. “Have you eaten yet?” Burr asked, not even looking up at him to continue speaking. 

“No, mum, not yet.” Alexander rolled his eyes and began grabbing what he needed for his next few classes. “I’ll make a sandwich before I leave.” 

“Good,” he answered, “Lafayette said you weren’t answering your phone yesterday,” he didn’t address the nickname, probably used to it at this point. They were tentative friends, had been since he was in freshman year—wide-eyed and new to America—and Burr had bought him a coffee just to get him to stop talking for five minutes. 

“I’ll call him later today. You still coming to the movie night Saturday?” He asked, finally grabbing his water bottle from the desk. Burr glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Are you?” He asked. The look Burr shot him was blank, but there was a sort of tension behind it. 

Alex frowned, “of course,” he echoed. He wouldn’t miss movie night for the world, whether he was dating someone or not. Movie night was tradition, it had been since his freshman year. Very rarely had they ever missed or skipped one, except during typical holidays. 

They didn’t say goodbye, silence just stretched between them as Alex headed for the door, then down to the kitchen. He made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, considering he didn’t own any other kind of toppings, and slipped them into sandwich bags. The kitchen kept brown paper bags as well, provided by Angelica, the RA for the girls’ floor. He took one to put the food in, and even grabbed an apple after a moment of consideration. He hadn’t really eaten much yesterday, and he didn’t want to see Lafayette’s disappointed face. He always seemed to know, oddly enough. 

He headed back out, already taking out his phone. Lafayette would be out of classes. He shot a quick text message to let him know he was calling, but waited until he received an agreement before he pressed the green phone button. 

Only three rings echoed into the silence before a click signified the call had been answered, and a smug, “Mon amour, mon ami,” sounded in a rushed greeting. He hesitated, how did he already know? Alexander recognized that tone of voice, he’d already heard about him spending the night with Thomas. He couldn’t keep the flush from his face. “Comment ça va?” Lafayette continued. 

“I’m good,” he answered, glancing around. “I guess you’ve heard, then?” There was no other reason for Lafayette to sound so smug. He’d always said they would make good friends with this sly smile, and now he believed he was being proven right considering the whole of campus believed they were sleeping together. He wasn’t going to lie to his friends, but he wasn’t about to correct them when he was in public. He was too anxious about that, his reputation would be screwed if anyone learned the relationship was fake. 

“Of course, Alexander,” he could practically hear Lafayette’s grin through the phone. “Friends were very excited to tell me how much money I’d won.” 

Alex blinked. “I’m… sorry?” 

“I’ve won very many bets about you and Thomas getting together, despite the sexual tension, many seem to think you two would rather kill each other.” Alexander choked—he couldn’t help it. He knew there were bets on their fights, but on them ending up in a relationship? Thomas Jefferson was an arrogant asshole, they were only doing this shit for their own gain, not because they actually liked each other! 

“Oh, désolé, mon chéri, I must go. We will continue our little chat later, d’accord?” There was a loud rustling in the background, then voices, and the call ended before he even had the chance to reply. He tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it for a moment, before stuffing it in his pocket. He was nearly at Thomas’ dorm anyway. 

Damn Lafayette, how typical of him to completely brush off the subject and leave it for a later date. Alexander rolled his eyes, and wondered how he would react when he admitted the relationship was fake. 

James Madison opened the door, faltering for only a moment before he stepped aside to let Alexander in. 

Thomas was sitting at his desk, he had headphones on, a glaring purplish-pink sort of colour. Vaguely, he noticed Madison moving to sit on his own bed as he approached. Alexander smirked, tossing the bag of food on the desk in front of him, reveling in the startled jump he earned, then leaned over to wrap his arms around Thomas’ warm neck. 

“Wha-” it cut off midway when he turned to recognize Alex, and the surprised look changed to one of annoyance. He pushed his laptop backward a little bit, and turned back to it, leaning his elbows on his deck and reaching forward so Alex had to stretch and rise onto his tiptoes to continue clinging to his neck. He was too stubborn to let go, and he could feel Madison’s eyes on them, picking their every interaction apart. 

“Come on, I made you lunch- breakfast? I made you food.” Thomas’ back was warm, soaking through all of the clothing separating them, and firm, comfortable to lay on. Curls tickled at his neck and the side of his face, but he ignored it in favour of watching him type over his shoulder, composing a paper. 

Their room was still absolutely freezing, the heathens, he had no idea how they could keep their room so cold. His was above average, but that was expected. He was generally fine in a tepid room, sometimes he needed a sweater, but a _cold_ room? What kind of monsters would live and sleep in a _cold_ room?

Eventually, he dropped down, his feet protesting the position, and he reached into the bag of food he’d brought, grabbing out a random sandwich. They were both the same, so it didn’t matter which one he took. He settled down with it on Thomas’ bed, eyeing him curiously. 

“Don’t get crumbs on my bed,” he warned without looking up, not even removing his headphones. Alex wondered briefly what he was listening to, before raising an eyebrow. He was a neat eater, thank you very much. He could eat without making a big mess of crumbs. 

He scarfed it down quickly, and tried to ignore Madison’s curious, prying gaze. Instead, he focused on scrolling through his phone, heading onto Google Docs to read through his latest essay, which was only a few hundred words off being completed, now. Then he could edit it once for flow, and second for spelling, grammar, and any continuity issues or repeated words. Finally, it would be ready to send off. 

It took a good twenty minutes before Thomas stood, removing his headphones, and sat next to Alex with the paper bag. They were close enough to brush, and Alexander soaked in the heat. 

He ate, also on his phone, leaving both of them to sit in silence, doing their own things. Madison was texting someone, going by the way he would type, read a bunch, smile, then continue typing. 

Thomas finished his food, then slid an arm around his shoulder, and tugged him close. Their sides slotted together and their legs bumped. Alexander fought a peaceful sigh as the iciness slowly seeped from his skin, replaced with a comforting warmth. 

He let his head drop onto a warm shoulder, and tried to focus back on his paper. He never really liked typing on his phone, but his laptop was in his bag and he didn’t want to move to grab it and risk not being allowed to cuddle like this again. This moment was fragile, tentative, and he didn’t want to ruin it or the warmth that came with it. He could feel eyes on them for a moment, but the gaze quickly flickered away. 

He allowed him to drown everything out, ignored the steady breath rising and falling beside him, the warmth, the sounds of other people working. He focused only on what he was typing, lost himself in his writing and his work. He tuned out any distractions, and allowed himself to finish his paper. 

He’d only needed a few hundred extra words—but it wasn’t until a few thousand words later that he was dragged from his stupor by a hand nudging his arm and tugging him closer. He blinked, glancing up at Thomas. “What?” He asked, his brain was still a little muddled, lost in the sight of dark words spilling across a rapidly filling blank page. 

“You have class, Alexander,” his eyes flicked to the time on his phone. Thomas was right, he’d been so focused he hadn’t even noticed the time. He felt groggy being dragged from such a thorough daze. He stood, tugging away from the warmth so the arm around his shoulders dropped. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, I hadn’t even realized…” Alex would be a little late to his usual habit of being early, but it wasn’t much of an issue. Thomas held up the bag, which still contained an apple he could probably eat between classes. He hated people who ate loud foods in class… 

He leaned forward to take it, letting out a startled hum when he was tugged forward. Lips landed on his cheek, just barely, the lightest brush of heat against his skin before it was gone. Surely he was bright red—at this point—with surprise as he turned and ducked out of the room. 

Sure, they were in a fake relationship. People were expecting them to kiss, but _he_ hadn’t expected it in the slightest. There was one thing he could say for certain, however, his mind was now perfectly clear. 

His face felt hot the whole way to class.

  
  


He was distracted during class. Lafayette obviously noticed by the way he kept nudging him and smirking when he was caught staring into space instead of hunched over scrawling down his notes like usual. He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

It was just the brush of lips against his cheek, no heat or passion or life, and it was a show for their audience—but he still couldn’t help it. 

There was absolutely nothing special about it—it was rather unremarkable, and yet he blushed every time he thought about it. 

He imagined it was the surprise and the embarrassment at how startled he had looked after. He was a good actor, but only when he was actually expecting something to happen, and that kiss hadn’t been scripted. 

He hoped he wouldn’t react that embarrassingly next time it happened. 

Somehow, thinking of a possible next time made him flush brighter.

  
  


His final class of the day all the flustered heat from earlier vanished, replaced with the same fiery need to debate he was used to. It flooded him up from the tip of his toes to the curled ends of his hair, had him buzzing with energy, and the _need_ to shout and argue. 

He knew what day it was the moment he stepped into class, and rushed to sit in the front. It was a surprise mock trial, and he was itching to get in there and fight. He could just tell by the group of students sitting off to the side, and the fake court props they used. 

He didn’t bother grabbing his notebook, and ignored Lafayette’s smirks. He didn’t look over when Thomas sat down next to him, he’d been expecting it. Instead, he focused on the jury. 

They were just random students around campus, probably doing it for some kind of extra credit. They were relatively impartial, but this wasn’t a proper trial, it wasn’t exactly meant to be the most serious thing in the world. 

He leaned forward, he was practically vibrating in his seat. He ignored Thomas’ warmth next to him, or the way there were sitting closer than most people—hell, they were actually sitting next to each other instead of across the class for once. In the classroom, in a debate, they weren’t boyfriends. They were just classmates arguing their points. Fake boyfriends. They were fake boyfriends. 

“Good morning,” Professor Washington stepped into the classroom with all the looming grace only he seemed to possess, setting his laptop down in one swift move before moving to stand in the middle of the platform. “Today we will be holding another surprise mock trial, you will have twenty minutes to read through the evidence and prepare your argument. Your goal is to defend your point as best as possible on the fly, convince the jury of your points. Who would like to go first?” 

Alexander’s hand shot up, the mock trials were his absolute _favourite._ Thomas gave him a look, but his hand joined Alex’s. He glanced around curiously, to see who else wanted to argue, but all other hands were down and all eyes were on them. He wanted to flush at all the stares, but instead preened and rose his hand higher. 

He was not going to go easy on Thomas because of some relationship, he would never concede on his views and in his work because of any romantic or friendly feelings for _anyone._ He would argue against his friends, enemies, and lovers until his last breath, which is probably what everyone wanted to hear. He would not go easy on anyone because of his pre-existing relationship with them, he had his opinions and he would _defend them with all he had._

Washington raised an eyebrow and glanced around the class. “Alright, Hamilton, Jefferson. Hamilton, you’re on the side of the state, Jefferson, you’re defending the client. Pass this around.” He handed a stack of folders to someone at the end of the front row, the only thing that broke the silence other than his voice was the rustling of papers. Washington had the power to absolutely dominate and command all of a class's attention, which was one of the many reasons Alex loved his class so much. 

He happily grabbed at the top folder when the pile reached him, and passed the rest to Thomas. Instantly, he began flipping through it, trying to compile his argument. 

“This case is based on real murder cases, some of which we will be covering in the following weeks.” 

Alexander didn’t care, he was too absorbed in his thoughts. 

He was planning to win, he would not back down because of his opponent—he never would.

  
  



End file.
